


We Were Made for This (or Five Times Stiles Played Captain & One Time he Really Was)

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott can't figure out whether he's lucky or not to have a crew who know him so well, but in the end they got him here, so he can't complain.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Prompt: Scott sometimes lets Stiles play captain. Stiles demands to be called Captain Stilinski and makes the most ridiculous commands etc. The crew just goes along with it because it's obvious to the entire ship that Scott has a thing for Stiles.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Made for This (or Five Times Stiles Played Captain & One Time he Really Was)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a part of the [Sciles ReverseBang](http://scilesreversebang.tumblr.com) for the lovely and talented [inflomora-art](http://inflomora-art.tumblr.com) whose [artwork](https://24.media.tumblr.com/4245368ad37ea018ef3c7d866d17f3c8/tumblr_n3y1fwqWjQ1t0hsuqo1_500.png) and prompt inspired this fic. You should all go shower all of your love and affection onto them right away because they gave me the excuse to write a Star Trek AU full of oblivious boys and shenanigans and really, what's better than that?
> 
> A few small things to note before reading:  
> \- Stiles has a panic attack so if that's triggering to you I suggest you avoid it. I realize that everyone experiences and handles panic attacks differently, Stiles' is modelled after my own experience, I can't speak for anyone else. I tried to make it very clear that he and Scott have built up a method of dealing with these attacks over time.  
> \- Die-hard Star Trek fans: I'm sorry. I love Star Trek, I've seen the original series, most of the movies, and a bit of next gen, but I am definitely not aware of every detailed working of the universe. I did my research but still fudged a few things for the sake of plot (oranium, totally not existent in the trek verse or any other). If you feel the need to come give me hell for it I'm coucourfeyrac on tumblr and LJ.  
> \- Scott isn't a werewolf, but he also isn't totally human.

**I**

Scott walks on to the bridge to find Stiles slouched back in his command chair, unsurprisingly, issuing benign commands to the crew only to be met with a few bemused grins and eye-rolls, and a patronizing "Sir, yes sir" from Isaac accompanied by an equally patronizing salute. It's a given that as Scott's First Officer (though often and affectionately referred to as co-Captain by the crew) Stiles is the one put in command of the ship when Scott is off-board, but it hasn't taken long for Stiles to develop the habit of walking around and naming himself Captain whenever it pleases him. If it were anyone else Scott might feel quite threatened, not to mention outright baffled at the audacity and rule-breaking, but he's practically known Stiles since the womb, their mothers were best friends, he knows the other man inside and out and knows it's just Stiles' sense of humor (and, of course, his eternal disregard for just about any and all Starfleet regulation, despite his father's status of Admiral). Scott is well aware that it's a little unorthodox, and he counts himself beyond lucky to have a crew who seem to have acclimated to Stiles' occasional eccentricities with surprising ease. Many might've taken the dynamic between them as more of a sign of weak command skills than anything, but everyone here seems to have accepted things as they are. They're well on their way to having the highest success rate of any Starfleet ship in the last century, and as far as he's concerned it's because of the two of them together, they make a great team. The whole crew does, he knows it would've never happened without them, he really believes that without Stiles by his side he couldn't have done it. 

He walks up behind the chair at the centre of the bridge and puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder, clearing his throat.  
"Morning, Captain." He begins, grinning down at Stiles. "You're here early, aren't you not scheduled on the bridge until 0900? I was thinking I might actually get the chance to give commands for a while until then." Stiles spins around to face Scott (and really, he gets way too much joy out of spinning frivolously in the Captain's command chair of a Starfleet ship to be considered an adult in any capacity) and lifts what Scott suspects is supposed to be a sardonic-looking brow, but the effect is ruined entirely by the ridiculous grin covering his face.  
"Jealous I came back to my baby before my best bro?" It's such a spectacularly weak joke, if it can even be called that, Scott can't stop himself from cracking up. He can see Boyd and Erica shaking their heads at him past Stiles and he can't see Isaac from where he's standing anymore, but he's pretty sure he's probably got one of his judging-you faces on (he has nearly as many as Lydia and just a smidge more than Erica, an impressive amount).

Scott rights himself once he catches his breath and pats Stiles on the back before addressing the crew.  
"Alright, now-" But Stiles slaps a hand over his mouth before he can continue.  
"Excuse you, but I think you'll find that commands issued to the command crew are given by the Captain, First Officer." Stiles pokes him in the chest to emphasize his last two words. It would be confrontational but the playful expression on Stiles' face and the (flirty?) undertone to his voice undermine the seriousness of the gesture. He drops the finger from Scott's chest and whirls around to face the crew again.  
"Alright! Now..."

**II**

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the U.S.S.Enterprise NCC-1701-K, If I could please have your attention for just a moment, this is your Captain speaking and I must inform you all that is is of extreme importance..."  
Stiles' voice rings out over the P.A. system in what Scott feels is a strange mix of grade-school morning announcer and old-time radio DJ. He looks up at the sound and when he catches Lydia's eyes fixed on him he's not exactly sure how to describe the expression she's wearing, but it makes him extremely aware of the probably embarrassingly soft grin covering his own. He immediately schools his features into something more casual (he hopes) and tries to avoid her gaze without looking obvious, if the snort from Isaac next to him is anything to go by he fails miserably.

"Dude, are you okay?"  
"What? Yeah man, of course, why wouldn't I be okay?" Isaac looks simultaneously amused and extremely skeptical.  
"You look pretty constipated to me. Like you're trying to connect your eyebrows, not to mention you've gone as red as a tomato." Scott's pretty sure that makes him go even redder.  
"Shuddup." He bites out, indignantly. Isaac huffs out a laugh and returns to his soup. Scott gives it a minute before asking:  
"Is she still looking?"  
"Is who still looking?"  
"Lydia! Is Lydia still looking?" Isaac rolls his eyes in an extremely exaggerated way.  
"Are you serious, right now? With this?" Isaac gestures to indicate Scott's general pathetic cowering.  
"Isaac." Scott whines.  
"I mean really-"  
"Just tell me if she's looking, man, come on!" Isaac sighs in a very put-upon fashion, but complies anyway.  
"No, the big, scary, five-foot-three, prada-wearing monster is not going to get you, Captain."  
"Clearly you haven't made her angry enough, yet, if you think that's funny."  
"Whatever," Isaac stands, taking his tray with him. "Good luck."

:::

When Lydia gracefully, but authoritatively, drops into the seat across from Scott the cafeteria the room has almost emptied aside from a few stragglers. When he's got the time and luxury Scott likes to eat slowly and, some might argue, just a little too much. Lydia has her business face on and he knows it rarely means anything good or easy so he braces himself for whatever's coming. He doesn't find much comfort in the fact that she's even sent Jackson, a potential witness to whatever horror she's about to drop on him, away. She spends a moment staring at him expectantly while he searches his thoughts trying to think of what she's waiting for him to say. In the end he he comes up blank and settles for a slightly sheepish shrug.

"Come on, McCall, we both know why I'm here." The tone in her voice is surprisingly soft, considering her sharp expression.  
"I really don't." He holds up his hands, shrugging and dropping them into his lap again. She stares at him a moment before leaning back slightly with a sigh.  
"You really don't." She says, but it sounds more like 'moron' than anything else. "Stiles." Her voice is firm now, it doesn't bode well and alarm starts washing over him "I'm here about Stiles."  
"What? Is he okay?" He doesn't even realise he's risen to his feet until Lydia stands and leans forward to place a hand on his shoulder and stop him from going anywhere. He's not even sure where Stiles is right now, he just wants to find him.  
"He's fine, Scott, it's not like that." Scott stills isn't satisfied, though.  
"Is he in trouble, is someone coming after him? Is he sick?"  
"Christ, no, Scott. Nothing is wrong with him." She pauses, a slight smirk flitting across her face "Well not physically, anyway. I promise." She eyes him, and he can see that despite the barb she's being honest.  
"Okay." he nods  
"Okay." She nods back. "Now would you sit the hell down." He nods again, smiling weakly and settling himself back on the bench. He's relieved, but he still can't shake some off some of the residual tension.  
"He's going to be okay, then?" He has to ask, for his own peace of mind. Lydia's expression is calculating and Scott can feel his nerves strung tight, waiting for her answer.  
"Well, that's up to you now, isn't it?" She answers, finally. Just like that most of Scott's anxiety turns into confusion. It must show, because she lets out an exasperated huff and throws up her arms in incredulity. "Seriously, Scott! His heart! I don't want you to break his heart." And all Scott can do in response is gape. Because really, he'd been wondering if their usual kidding around had been taking a slightly more flirtatious edge as of late, and not the fake, just for fun kind of flirting, but the genuine kind. If the general overtones of their relationship hadn't become a little more...just more. 

But honestly, he's been thinking it's only himself projecting what he's been wishing for on to their interactions. What Lydia's implying means, well, it means a lot more than he's given himself permission to really hope for at risk of screwing things up with the most important person in his life. He realises he hasn't said anything in a while when Lydia's voice cuts through his thoughts.  
"Seriously, Scott." She has her 'not kidding around' voice on but Scott doesn't have the patience for it between the realisation she's just dropped on him and the implication that he's the one hurting Stiles, or putting Stiles in danger of being hurt, whatever.  
"Seriously, Lydia." He replies, his tone biting, he knows it might be a bit of an overreaction but he's too confused to really know, right now. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Her expression goes sharp.  
"Of course you don't, you're clearly even more oblivious than I gave you credit for." He rolls his eyes, frustrated.  
"Dammit, no, I mean- no, of course I know what you're talking about. I just-I didn't know about his- that he might have feelings for me. Like that. Oh god, he does, I-does he really?" Lydia rolls her eyes.  
"Of course he does, you idiot. Trust me, there's no maybe involved."  
"Has he said anything about me? About... us?" At that Lydia looks at him like she can hardly believe he made it as far as puberty alive.  
"This isn't fourth grade, Scott. He's the one you should be asking. Besides, you're losing sight of the point of this conversation."  
"Which was?" he asks.  
"Don't hurt him, Scott." Her voice has taken on a new tone, one that he's never heard her use, but one that's clearly free of all Lydia's usual flare for drama or any of the pretense she puts on normally. This voice is raw and honest and Scott knows this is a moment which is important. That she'll mean what she says. "I don't think I need to tell you I'll hurt you if you hurt him in any way, though we both know I will, but I think the most important thing right now is to remind you of is how much of yourself you're going to lose if you lose him. Remember that. If you aren't going into this as wholeheartedly as he is, then end it now. I mean it, McCall, don't fuck around." Her eyes bore straight into his. Scott's mouth is dry, and he's a little bristled, but mostly he's grateful. He cares about Stiles, and he cares that he has people like Lydia genuinely looking out for him. They haven't broken eye contact at all, and this is one of the moment Scott feels his respect for Lydia in full force. No matter how she likes to present herself to the world around her, she's a wonderful person, and he's thankful that Stiles has got her in his corner.  
"I won't, Lydia, I really won't. I would tell you how much I care about him but I think it probably wouldn't change much of what you've said."  
"Not a bit." she agrees.  
She eyes him for a minute before relaxing her posture and leaning back. Scott hadn't even realise they'd both been leaning gradually forwards over the table, but just like that the air of intensity that had surrounded them has dissipated.  
"You're alright, Scott, don't let me down." Lydia says as she's standing to leave, but she pauses just before turning away.  
"Scratch that, don't let Stiles down." She amends, Scott grins at her.  
"I won't." She nods at him with a small smile and walks away.

:::

Scott walks on to the bridge thirty minutes early because even though he knows Stiles would probably enjoy sticking around a while longer he also knows that he's been on shift more than twenty-six hours because he messed up his medication schedule and if no one has chased him off the bridge he probably lost track of time entirely. Scott gets the feeling he's probably just about dead on his feet, whether he'll admit it or not. However, he finds Stiles surprisingly energized, and looking quite deep in conversation with Isaac, of all people. Usually they aren't exactly enemies, but they are definitely more antagonistic than friendly, no matter how much Scott tries to help them get along, though truth be told he's mostly given up at this point. Scott isn't sure if this is actually a good thing or not. There's something a little manic to the way they're both grinning and Scott has a feeling that this will end badly, because both of them had an unfortunate habit of turning most things they touch into some kind of misfortune or other, and if Stiles is involved Scott will inevitably suffer the consequences, even if he doesn't take part in whatever is happening. 

He clears his throat and no one pays him any attention, he's seriously considering worrying about whether or not his crew actually realise that they do have a real Captain. He clears his throat louder and this time Stiles and Isaac look up. Isaac looks between them and grins before turning back to the screen in front of him and pretending to be busy. Stiles slides off the desk and walks over to Scott, looking genuinely delighted (and a little flustered).  
"Scott, just the guy I was looking for!" Scott thinks this is already off to a bad start, those words almost always manage to lead to something painful and/or humiliating, in the end.  
"Stiles, what are you planning?" Scott asks, a little nervous and a lot wary.  
"Oh come on, have a little faith in your old pal Stiles. Isaac and I were just thinking we could probably get away with a small detour to Proct-Aoh, it's just on the way to our primary mission location!" Scott stares at him, doubtful. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"  
"Do you-"  
"Rhetorical question. Now, Scott, yee of little faith."  
"Not helping."  
"We've been to Proct-Aoh a million times before and nothing horrible has ever happened, and besides, we even have a little bit of a reason this time! We're running low on oranium, so we're probably going to have to stop on the way back if we don't go now anyway." They exchange looks for a moment and Stiles can obviously see the exact moment Scott gives in and he knows he's getting what he wants because he claps Scott on the back and whirls around to face Erica, Isaac, and Boyd at the Helm.  
"Set a course for Proct-Aoh, the party ship doth arriveth!" Boyd rolls his eyes, Erica groans, and Isaac lets out a small, victorious whoop but they all turn around and do exactly as Stiles asks. Scott wants to be perturbed, he really does, but he finds it also unbearably endearing, in some strange way. 

Just then, Stiles' stomach growls for what feels like at least ten seconds, and then Scott bursts out laughing before handing Scott the roll he'd forgotten he was holding.  
"Thought you might've skipped lunch, throwing off your schedule always makes you nauseous." Stiles looks between him and the roll strangely intense for a moment, and when his cheeks go a bit pink Lydia's words echo around in Scott's mind. 'There's no maybe.'  
"Thanks." Stiles eventually replies, with a smile. "You know me too well." And Scott really couldn't place the undertone to his voice if he tried, so he simply settles for telling Stiles he needs some shut-eye and definitely a shower before pushing him through the doors. His hand might linger a little too long and low on the small of Stiles' back and Stiles might lean back into it just a little, but neither of them say anything.

:::

In the end, they get a call from Starfleet ordering a different detour so they don't end up stopping for the oranium or anything else Stiles and Isaac might've been planning, but they'll all end up wishing they had.

**III**

The ship is in one of its calmer moments. They shouldn't be so hard to come to by on a ship meant for exploring rather than combat, but somehow they always manage to get into trouble. Then again given the two people at the head of command on their ship, it's sometimes rather surprising that she still flies at all. Of course, no matter how much they put her through, both the Captain and First Officer spend a considerable amount of time after each mission putting a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into making sure she stays in tip-top shape. Normally, that's what Scott would be doing right now, but he finds he just doesn't have the energy for it. They've just returned from a mission to a newly discovered Class M planet where they'd been assigned the task of observing the population and seeing if they were ready to join, or at the very least be made aware of, the federation. 

It shouldn't have gone wrong. It shouldn't have even had the remote possibility of going wrong, but naturally they found a way. They'd been just finishing up a perfectly routine reconnaissance mission when it was discovered that they were running low on oranium. They hadn't been too worried about it, but the distribution matrix control system for the oranium supply was bugged and they had failed to notice until it was almost too late. Someone had gone to check what level they were at and as it turned out they were much lower than expected by the time they were ready to head home. Stiles was sure that the ships scanners had picked up on the exact element they needed only a couple of miles from the their location. He knew they really shouldn't risk taking anything and disturbing the planet before its inhabitants were aware of their existence, but he insisted he could at least go and confirm whether or not the signals had been correct in the first place and then decide what to do from there on out, after all, what other options did they have? By the time a rescue ship got there it'd probably be too late. He had to get close to a small village, very close, and even shielded the ship was too large to guarantee getting close enough undetected. He knew it wasn't the best idea, but Stiles had looked at him with such imploring eyes he'd been unable to say no.

Naturally, things had gone down hill from there. In hindsight he saw that he should have at least sent someone else, someone at least capable of stealth. But he'd let Stiles go on his own and from there on out the mission had been doomed to failure. 

:::

They're in his quarters, arguing, trying to figure out a plan before letting the rest of the crew know just how much trouble they're in so that things don't sound quite so hopeless. They both know the effort is probably wasted, everyone has probably figured out the situation already, and if not they will soon.  
"Come on, Scott! You know it's the only option!"  
"It's a terrible option. Seriously, Stiles, you'll get yourself killed way before you even get to the oranium. You're not going." Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs, as if Scott is the one being irrational here.  
"Listen, how else are we supposed to get out of here? You know we aren't going anywhere without it, and you know that besides Isaac and I no one else on-board is trained well enough in radioactive materials to retrieve it unharmed, and he isn't trained well enough in field operations to be able to carry out the operation on his own." Scott stares back at him, searching for a reason not to let this fly, he can already see it turning into a disaster, but he can't argue with Stiles' logic. There really aren't many options in front of them. It's not as if this is the first time one of them has had to risk their lives for a mission gone wrong, in fact, it seems to happen all together too often, but it's the first time it's seemed like such an impossibly doomed to failure situation, and the first that they won't be able to stay in communication the entire time.  
"Fine." Scott grits out. Stiles looks relieved, and he steps forward, placing two firm hands around Scott's arms in a reassuring gesture.  
"Scott, it's gonna be fine, man. I'm going to be fine. How many far stupider situations than this have we gotten yourself into since joining Starfleet alone?" Scott can't help grinning at that.  
"Enough, but we got into them together." he argues.  
"Hey now," Stiles protests. "I'll have you know I've done plenty of stupid things all on my own. I'm plenty independant." Scott rolls his eyes. "Besides, you've got my back either way, right?"  
"Right." Scott nods, his hand coming up to grip Stiles' own bicep. Whatever else Scott had planned to say dies on his tongue when Stiles shifts slightly closer. The air of tension between them changes and Scott feels hyper aware of their proximity. Stiles' eyes flit over his face, lingering over his lips and Scott can feel the pressure to do something building in his bones. He's almost ready to throw caution to the wind and press forwards when Isaac's voice comes over his rooms private com system.  
"Captain, oxygen levels will begin dropping soon, if you've got a plan it's now or never." They both step back quickly, shaking off the air of their encounter.  
"We'll be right there." Scott speaks into the com, if Isaac is at all surprised by the slightly breathless tone in Scott's voice he doesn't mention it.

:::

Stiles is getting closer to the dead zone, which means close to the oranium, the com signal is already getting fuzzy because of the radiation. Scott is trying to understand what Stiles is saying when the noise from the other end cuts off entirely. He holds his breath for a moment, thinking Stiles has reached the deadzone and being quite surprised because he seems to have gotten there significantly earlier than they'd anticipated. He'll have a longer time to get back to the ship without having to worry about the oxygen levels decreasing too severely this way, so Scott isn't displeased, but he's not entirely convinced either.  
"Isaac, any chance you can get a read on Stil-" Scott freezes when he hears another patchy voice speaking over the com signal, but this one is definitely not Stiles'.  
They know little to nothing about the race of this planet, except that they're supposed to be nocturnal, flourishing in the low oxygen levels and below freezing temperatures, but he supposes their intel was either incorrect or incomplete. Either way, Stiles has managed to run into one of them, at least, and somehow Scott isn't all that surprised. He lets out his breath slowly and forces himself to keep control. They knew this was a possibility, they've hoped for the best but they known they that they're going in next-to blind. Anything is possible. He listens carefully and knows already this is a language he's never heard before, he takes a quick glance around the room and no one else seems to be stepping forward with a translation but he can see Boyd already searching the system from his HELM position trying to identify the language and find someone who can help. All Starfleet ships should be equipped to deal with any known language they may encounter, but Scott has a sinking feeling that this one may very well not fall on the list of known languages.  
Clearly, Stiles doesn't know what they're saying either. He can't hear much but he can hear Stiles shuffling through languages trying to find one they'll understand. He can hear more and more background noise and he's already asked Isaac to get a lock on Stiles' signal and beam him back up as quickly as possible but he's pretty sure they're moving now. Things don't sound violent but he's pretty sure Stiles' voice is getting a little frantic and the line is quickly getting even patchier and-

The line goes dead at exactly the same moment that Isaac releases a frustrated growl at completely losing the already-tenuous hold on Stiles' location. Scott's mind is already racing. He wants to go after Stiles, he needs to go after Stiles, but he knows from a command standpoint there's no way in the world that he could ever justify it. Going out into an unfamiliar environment with less than forty minutes of breathable oxygen left after one of their best and brightest has just been- just been- who knows what, by the local species, it's a suicide mission. But he can't do nothing. He just can't.

"Isaac." The blond turns to him, serious.  
"Yes, Captain?"  
"Where was the last place we had a lock on our First Officer's position." He watches Isaac's eyes go from serious, to questioning, to concerned.  
"I-Scott," The way Isaac is imploring him with the use of his name, rather than title, doesn't go unnoticed. "The connection is already so unstable from the radiation even if I could beam you down, which I really think I can't, you have just over a half hour of time before you can no longer sustain consciousness with the decreasing oxygen level, and the ship-" Scott knows, he knows with the lack of power to sustain a take-off and the depleted oxygen resources they can't afford to give him any to take with him and prolong his time-frame a little.  
"How much?" Scott interrupts. "I need you to tell me exactly how much time I've got left of mobility when I go out there." Isaac looks like he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue.  
"Thirty-eight minutes, sir."  
"Great." Scott says, walking towards the doors already. "If I'm not back in thirty-seven shut down all areas of the ship you can afford to, ration oxygen and put all energy into getting a signal out to a rescue ship. Lydia," He's not sure when she got there, but given their encounter the other day he's not surprised to find her there now that Stiles' mission has gone awry. "You're acting Captain, now." She nods to him. He gets the feeling her look conveys a deeper kind of approval, but he has only a moment to ponder it before the doors shut and he's being whisked away to the next level.  
Once he's there he all but sprints to the transporter room and finds himself standing beneath one of the beams ready to go before he's even had a moment to step back and formulate a plan. He looks up as the gold lights start to spin around him and he feels the familiar tingling of being beamed down and before he knows it he's surrounded by an unfamiliar bog-like landscape. He looks around, registering the chilly, humid air, the unnatural thickness of the orange liquid covering a large portion of the ground, and the strong scent of copper. He tells himself not to let it remind him of the smell of blood, and presses on.

:::

Scott passes out on his way back to the ship, five minutes from where he beamed down, and his last comforting thought is that no matter what at least he isn't going to have to wake up to a world without Stiles in it.

:::

When he wakes, though, it's not a world without Stiles. It's also not a place he remembers seeing before passing out. He's not feeling entirely lucid, and his vision appears to be blurred. He feels cold, but not uncomfortably so. He's trying his hardest to drag his mind through the fog that seems to cloud it, and he reaches a hand out next to him to find that he appears to be trapped in some kind of gel pod. He's pretty sure he should be more alarmed at this discovery, but mostly he's just glad to be alive. If he's alive, Stiles might be alive. Even if he's being held captive, there's the chance for escape, which is the chance to find Stiles, get the oranium, and get them all out of here alive and hopefully unscathed. He braces himself and moves to roll over and is surprised to find the movement doesn't hurt at all. He's feeling a little sluggish, but after nearly dying and being most-likely abducted one expects to find themselves in a little pain and he's pleased to note that he doesn't feel a bit.

The haze over his mind is beginning to lift, vision clearing, and he's starting to register that the gel pod is roughly the size of a bunk on one of the transport ships and the gel it's surrounded by appears to have advanced healing properties he's only ever witnessed comparatively primitive prototypes of. He smiles for a moment thinking that if Stiles woke up in one of these pods he probably managed to forget about being kidnapped in order to geek out over the technology he was encased in. Which reminds him all over again of the severity of his current situation. He starts pushing on various parts of the pod, looking for some kind of handle or release mechanism or even just a weak point in the structure of it. He can't see anything outside, the gel is cloudy and too thick, so he's startled when the pod cover lifts away on it's own and he finds himself toppling forwards and nearly ending up on the stone ground in front of him.

The alien in front of him has one large, white eye, orange skin, and large, flat, cloth-covered slats falling from their neck. It gestures for Scott before moving away and Scott assumes he's meant to follow so he does, it isn't as if he has any idea what else to do. As they walk he observes the structure they're in. It appears to be an impossibly-large, intricate cave system. He wonders how deep he is, and he has a feeling that if they're captives he's got next to no hope of finding a way out of this place. But he hasn't felt any hostility from the creature in front of him, if anything they seem quite reserved, gentle, even. Eventually they stop at a small cloth-covered dip in the wall and the creature pulls the cloth aside and gestures for him to enter, disappearing once he does.

The light is dimmer than outside and it takes Scott's eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do he can see an open pod suspended in the air in the far corner of the room, it appears to be open. Scott immediately rushes over to find Stiles staring blearily up at him, looking bored of all things. Scott can hardly believe it. He isn't sure if he wants to laugh or call him an idiot, so he does both. Stiles laughs back and they keep laughing until there are tears in both of their eyes, teetering on the edge of hysteria and massive relief. Stiles eventually sits up and pulls Scott into a hug, breath still hitching with laughter and if Scott notices he's shaking a little heavily and some of the laughs sound closer to sobs, he won't mention it. He knows Stiles will when he's ready.

"How did you find me?" He asks, finally pulling back but keeping his hands over Scott's chest and arm. Scott takes as much comfort in the contact as Stiles and takes it as permission not to release the other man, either.  
"I-well I didn't really. I mean, I tried to, but I ended up passing out when the oxygen levels got too low and I woke up here in one of these weird pod things and that creature led me to you, and now-well, yeah. Here we are." He finishes lamely. Stiles looks like he's got a million words on the tip of his tongue but he settles for letting out an exhausted breath and taking one hand from Scott's arm to scrub it over his face.  
"I can't believe you came after me, man. Actually, no-wait. Of course I can, you're such a self-sacrificing dumbass, of course you'd send yourself out on some suicide mission to rescue your dumbass best friend and end up finding me by accident."  
"Hey!" Scott protests."I'll have you know I was on my way back to the ship when I passed out. Don't go thinking so much of me just yet, not such a dumbass."  
"I notice you're not saying that I'm any less of a dumbass. Curious."  
"It's really not, though."  
"Hey!" Stiles reaches out and pinches him and Scott pinches him back and they're grinning at each other, not too far apart. A now familiar tension seems to rise silently between them and Scott inches forwards without letting himself think too much about it, guided by the now intense-gaze of Stiles but they're interrupted just before either of them can close the distance. 

One of the creatures has brought them a large bowl of unfamiliar foods which Scott is fairly certain are mostly fruits, they set it on the small, low table surrounded by simple-looking cushions in the centre of the room. Stiles thanks the alien, a small gesture he seems to have learned is customary. Scott helps Stiles out of the pod and they head over to the table and sit. Stiles seems to trust the edibility of the food far too easily and that's how they begin talking about Stiles' experience.

"When I found them there was a bit of confusion at first, it seemed like things were about to get out of hand for a minute there but then I started speaking Klingon just after the coms went dead, I think, and at first they seemed pretty alarmed, but it was a reaction that meant they understood so that was amazing. I told them I was a Starfleet Captain on a simple exploring mission, you know, charting uncharted territory, going where no man has gone before and all that jazz-"  
"I hope you didn't actually say that."  
"Pff, what do you take me for? Of course I did. But anyway, I took off my radiation gear and showed them the uniform as proof-"  
"Wait, did you just say you said you were a Starfleet Captain?"  
"Yes, Scott, what're you getting at, I say that all the time, now if you wouldn't mind-"  
"Stiles, your shirt is blue. Not yellow."  
"Oh, yeah, I figured I could just say I wanted to appear of lesser importance to protect my crew if captured by hostile forces, or something. But, anyway. It turns out that a while back their planet was under Klingon control, the planet was unlivable to them but it was farmed to near desolation for it's resources and they took many of their people as slaves, almost all of whom died because their bodies weren't well enough adapted to the different environment and conditions. But as it turns out in the end it was a Starfleet officer who took out the leader of the Klingon fleet who were terrorizing their people."  
"If all that happened why don't we know more about the planet or the people? I mean, the planetary info was pretty spot-on, but the information on the species was completely misleading. And if they know you speak Klingon, and they know you speak Klingon, why are they still so quiet?"  
"Ah, yeah. I guess that's the other big reason they feel they owe Starfleet. I guess the Captain who took down the Klingon also returned the couple still-living slaves to their home-planet, and when they asked him the favour of making sure no one would ever disturb their people again, to the best of his ability without it becoming a terrible burden, he agreed. Basically falsified his log, said it was a small stop-over journey on a highly volatile planet and was done with it. They wouldn't even tell me who it was."  
"Pff, three guesses."  
"Like I even need one, that guy's such an insufferably good-hearted show-off. Almost as bad as you. Almost." Scott just laughs.  
"As for the silence," Stiles continues. "I guess it's just their way of life, they have a language between them that is mostly non-verbalized, so they prefer to stay silent, it's more comfortable for them." Scott snorts out a laugh. Stiles living peacefully, for however long, in an almost completely silent community is no small wonder. He isn't surprised Stiles had looked bored when he found him, anymore.

"Hey, so why were you in the pod when I got here? You were already here longer than I was, and you never passed out, did you?" He asks a little while later.  
"Ah, yes, funny story-" Scott gets the distinct impression that he won't find it very amusing from the way Stiles grimaces. "I managed to trip and fall, of course, and when I did I guess I scraped myself on the thorn of this poisonous flower. Things got pretty hazy for a little while after that, and then I guess I was out like a light. I know," He sighs. "Lamest near death experience ever. Death by flower. What would my dear admirers say to that."  
"Nothing, because you don't have any."  
"Hey! Give a dying guy a little leeway!"  
"You're not dying." Scott says. 'Anymore' he thinks. He forces himself not to focus on that. Stiles is here with him, alive and laughing, and tomorrow they'll be headed back to their ship, where he promises himself to revisit their almost-kiss when the moment is right. He's sure now that Stiles feels something, too. Any doubts he had about Lydia's words were blown away by the intensity of want and affection in Stiles' eyes. 

:::

When they're led outside it's midday and the air is in perfect condition. Stiles has been given a small sample of the gel to study, he promises he'll cite another planet for its discovery if anyone else finds it, and they both swear up and down to keep the planet protected and they thank the people of the planet profusely. They're taken to the oranium and given as much as they can carry in a secured container to shield them from the radiation since Stiles had lost theirs when he'd accidentally poisoned himself. They're guided to the spot where they'd found Stiles and left to walk another ten minutes or so to where the signal back to their ship is strong. Scott calls Isaac, who sounds more than a little astonished to find out that they are not only both alive and well but loaded with enough oranium to get them home and back twice over, and just a little breathless. 

:::

Now Stiles is still in the sickbay, and Scott knows it's just a formality at this point. Knows he's going to wake up and be fine in the next hour or two like he always does but that it's mandatory that they keep him here until then. But it still always makes him a little antsy to see Stiles here. Mostly, though, he just feels tired. He wants Stiles to wake up and breathe life back into the ship again, breathe life into him and the crew. Stiles' seemingly endless energy always manages to make the whole ship a little brighter and he misses him when he's not there to give them power. 

He runs a finger down the IV that's in Stiles' hand, keeping him hydrated, and when he looks back up to see blue(?) eyes watching him he nearly jumps right out of his skin. Stiles lets out a laugh and sits up quicker than Scott thinks he probably should be doing, and shoves Scott's shoulder, though Scott doesn't miss that he grips it a little tighter than he needs to and he's pretty sure Stiles is more dizzy than he's letting on but he'll let it go as long as it doesn't get worse.  
"You're an idiot." he informs Stiles, a little huffily. Stiles just laughs "You love me anyway."

:::

"Allison! What the hell?" Stiles squeaks, more than a little confused by this turn of events. He's just been discharged and she's trapped him inside a maintenance cupboard, he's pretty sure she isn't looking to get frisky. First off, she seems to be in ambiguous on-again-off-again relationships with both Isaac and Lydia (or possibly both at once, who knows) and second, he's pretty sure he holds all the sex appeal of a tomato to her.  
"Stiles, I need to talk to you." She says, and oh, boy, she's got her scary face on. But it takes more than that to stop Stiles from talking.  
"Oh, I see. Well usually when I want to talk to someone I too lock us both in a small cupboard to do so." His voice is dripping with sarcasm and he can see she doesn't appreciate it, not that he really expected her to.  
"Stiles, this is serious." He sighs and relents. She seems sincere.  
"Alright, what's up?" She takes a deep breath and seems to steady herself, and there's a moment where Stiles has the horrible, horrible thought that maybe she's about to confess something really big. Like she's having Scott's kid, or something, and then he has to remind himself it's been like seven months since they broke up and he knows Allison can be scary and magical but hiding that would surely be a feat. Plus he would definitely know about it if they'd hooked up about it at all awful because Stiles would've been the first one Scott would have come to with all the gory details, whether he wanted to hear them or not.  
"I'm happy." She states, and that puts a very confused halt to his train of thought.  
"Oh...kay?" He says slowly.  
"For you and Scott. I'm happy for you guys." There's no mistaking the implication of her tone for anything but what it is, Stiles is now pretty thankful for the dark of the cupboard because if the heat of his face is anything to go by he's just gone scarlet.  
"I-um, Allison. He's-we're not-um-we're not a thing."  
"I'm not stupid, Stiles" Allison cuts in sharply "and I'm not some little girl whose feelings need protecting. I know you guys are together. Everyone does, and I want you to know there's no bad blood between us for it. I'm happy for you guys. You're good for each other" she sighs "You always were. I think I always expected this, on some level."  
Stiles doesn't know what to say to that. He and Scott aren't together, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't want them to be. He does, he really, really does, and he's been starting to believe that Scott does too. Evidently he isn't the only one who thinks so.  
"Thank you, Allison. But I really mean it, we aren't together." She looks unsure for a moment, and then genuinely surprised.  
"Really? The way you guys look at each other, the way you act, I was so sure..." she trails off for a moment, looking lost in thought, before turning her attention back to him. "There's really nothing there? I mean, not even before? I always kind of thought that before I came along maybe you guys, you know, hooked up, or something?" Stiles can't stop himself from laughing that time.  
"Oh man, no way, never. I mean, not before, at least. Now it's sort of...complicated." He winces at his own choice of words. He's always hated when people use the word complicated to describe the state of their relationships, it's so useless, but Allison simply makes a sympathetic noise.

"Complicated. That doesn't sound good, but it certainly doesn't sound like nothing either." Stiles knows that's her way of asking him if he wants to talk about it. Normally, he would probably say no, but lately he's been wondering if he's been going a little crazy with everything that he's been trying to work out inside himself, and his mind was already a hectic place on it's own. Not to mention it's his job to keep what he's feeling, everything that's going on with him, in check. If he can't do that he's more of a danger than a help to the crew. Maybe talking with Allison isn't a bad idea.  
"You're sure it won't, y'know, bother you at all? Me going on about Scott?" He asks a bit sheepishly, she chuckles lightly in response.  
"Of course not, maybe some time ago, but not now. Besides, are you planning on 'going on' about Scott? Are you going to be acting like a lovesick teenager, Stiles?" She teases, nudging him lightly and playing up the romance in her voice. He laughs as well.  
"Hey, like you have any room to talk, you guys were the definition of lovesick teenagers, the worst of the worst, Romeo and Juliet, all the drama." They're both laughing harder now.  
"We really were, weren't we?" He's expecting her to sound more wistful, but she only sounds amused.  
"You really were." Their laughter dies down a bit, he sighs.  
"I guess we haven't got the whole tragic, star-crossed lovers thing going on, but I think I'm still doing a pretty good lovesick teenager bit. You'd better take a seat if we're gonna' get into this." He gestures to the empty shelf behind Allison and they both manage to settle themselves on it. It's a little too small for them so they end up having to slouch a little awkwardly to fit. They look up at each other while they're still adjusting and both start cracking up at the thought of a crew member finding the ship's First Officer and Chief Science Officer slouching around in a maintenance closet with the ships Chief Tactical Officer. 

**IV**

The thing is, Stiles can't get what Allison said out of his head. She'd told him, straight up, that Scott feels the same as him, that she'd seen this coming a mile away. Normally Stiles would brush it off as the fact that he knows he and Scott are both pretty tactile, pretty codependent, but this is Allison. Aside from himself (he likes to think) and Melissa, he's pretty sure he can't think of anyone else who knows Scott better. She and Stiles are friends, but they've never been particularly close (and he's admitted to himself now that a part of that was the fault of his own jealousy). So when she's noticed this it means something more than if it were anyone else. The thing is, Stiles isn't great at handling personal problems. He can take the brunt of everyone else's easily enough but when it comes to his own he's sort of hopeless. So, he thinks, the best thing to do is to relax first, unwind. Test the waters a little and generally do his best to not freak out.

He decides on a night out.

Now, he's definitely not planning on any kind of drunken confessions of love or one-too-many drink induced hookups, because this is Scott, and Scott is not the type of person he wants to make that kind of mistake with, ever. If what Allison said is true then he's going to give Scott his best, and Scott definitely deserves his best to be clean and sober and private and personal. But, what he is planning on is getting some kind of solid confirmation of feelings. He's been getting the feeling that they've been moving in that direction for a while now, he's pretty sure they've nearly kissed a few times though he always doubts whether or not that's just his wishful thinking putting a more dramatic spin on the times they've looked at each other a little longer than is strictly normal or necessary. So, he just wants to ask a few questions, probing but not too much so, and he's considering the possibility of flirting with other guys to see how Scott reacts but that feels a little too manipulative for his tastes. He's kind of hoping someone offers to buy him a drink or something so that he can see Scott's reaction without having to let him think he's interested in the other guy at all..

He invites Isaac, who has somehow become privy to all of this for which he blames Allison because somehow since both he and Lydia are sleeping with Allison (and possibly each other at the same time, he still isn't sure he actually wants to know) the three of them have become de facto gossip buddies amongst themselves and now the blond insists on a first row seat to the "Will Scott and Stiles Ever Get Their Shit Together" show, which Stiles heard him refer to once and promptly reminded him he'd been pining after their head engineer since the moment he stepped foot on-board the ship and still had yet to do anything about it, almost two years later. He also invites Allison, who politely declines, Malia, Lydia, Kiera, Erica, Boyd, who also opts out, and Danny, who he makes absolutely sure is available before asking because he wants revenge on Isaac. He also asks Cora and tells her to extend the invitation to Derek because he is absolutely not too scared to do it himself, just too busy, obviously (really though, he thinks he was already taking his life into his own hands talking to the younger Hale, so he considers it a job well done). 

:::

Somehow, Stiles' low key night out with a few beers and a few friends spiralled out of control when Danny and Cora got to talking. He isn't sure how, exactly, they'd usurped his plans but it had something to do with Cora finding out Malia had never been to a real night club before and Danny saying he knew the best new place and Isaac agreeing with everything that came out of Danny's stupid, smiley face and threatening murder with his eyes to anyone who dared oppose him. So, here they are, the ten of them, crammed around a slightly too-small club booth being pumped with cheap, barely diluted liquor. Stiles has to admit, the place has its charms. The ceiling is made to look like a glowing sea of stars and gas-clouds and there's violet lighting under the floors that reacts to pressure of the people walking and dancing over it which gives a uniquely gorgeous effect to the sea of dancers in front of them. 

He looks around the booth to see how everyone else is doing. Kiera and Erica seem to have become fast friends, surprising given their opposite demeanors, Cora is pressed suspiciously close to an enchanted if still slightly wary Malia, Stiles doesn't miss the hand that's draped around Malia's back, and Malia isn't generally one for casual touching. Isaac is looking positively sublime while listening to Danny talk about something Stiles is pretty sure he doesn't understand a word of, and Stiles can't be positive but he's about eighty-seven percent sure Danny has a hand on Isaac's knee and intends to have that hand many other places on the blond in the very-near future if the predatory gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. It's nice to see, as much shit as he knows Isaac and he give each other, the other guy has been through a lot of shit. Even if it's just a hook-up, though he doubts that, Danny will treat him right. He deserves it.

Next, his eyes pass over an extremely uncomfortable looking Derek Hale before landing on Scott. He seems to be trapped in a conversation with Derek that neither of them look like they actually want to be a part of, Stiles laughs a little to himself before deciding he should probably rescue them both and get Scott out of there. He nudges him in the ribs.  
"Hey man, going to go grab another round of drinks, it's too much to carry on my own, come with?" Scott nods almost frantically and Derek is visibly relieved. Stiles trips out of the booth and they make their way up to the bar. Scott ends up having to go in front of him and push, Stiles is perfectly content with this because it gives him an excuse to grip Scott's hand. 

When they finally make it up to the bar Stiles orders, Scott takes a moment to be astonished once more by Stiles' ridiculously impressive ability to retain useless knowledge before excusing himself to get a quick bathroom break in while they're up and waiting around anyway. While Stiles is waiting another guy comes up to the bar on the side opposite of where Scott had been sitting.  
"Come here often?" He asks, and Stiles barely suppresses an audible groan.  
"Didn't know people actually used that line, anymore. What year are you from?"  
"Probably one a lot earlier than you, to be honest." The man chuckles. He's got a little silver around his temples, and there's something disarming about his smile. He seems like someone who might be fun for a bit of conversation, and, if Stiles were interested, a little more. He's not, obviously, but he doesn't mind talking to the guy while he waits for Scott to get back, and besides, if he's still around by then he might get a chance to gauge Scott's reaction.  
"If I had to guess," the man continues "I'd peg you for Starfleet, probably in engineering, you seem the tinkering type," he glances down to Stiles' hands which have been tapping out a rhythm on the table without his knowledge and then to his feet doing the same on the rung of his stool before continuing "Just a year out of the academy, probably, definitely not more than two. You look too cocky for a student and too cocky and fresh for more than a couple of years in service." The man grins, and oh, oh Stiles is powerless to resist an opportunity like this when it's presented to him so beautifully.  
"Actually," Stiles grins wide and just a little shit-eating "I'm a Captain, and I was a science officer before. You were right about the years, though, just going on three in August." The man looks taken aback for a moment, he's looking at Stiles like he's trying to figure out whether he's lying or not. It sounds far-fetched, Stiles will admit that, but obviously not impossible. After all, Scott actually is a Captain, and Stiles knows he's a pretty good liar when he wants to be, especially when this barely even feels like a lie anymore so much as a running joke.  
"Pretty young for a Captain, aren't you?"  
"The youngest in Starfleet history, I believe." he says, beaming proudly, and the pride isn't faked. He's proud of the ship, their ship. Of he and Scott. The man looks skeptical, still. Scott appears behind him suddenly, and when a hand comes down over his shoulder and squeezes tight Stiles just about jumps out of his skin.  
"On his way to being the best, too, if I have anything to say about it." Scott cuts in.  
"And who might you be?" The man asks, clearly eyeing the hand which still rests comfortably on Stiles' shoulder and their close proximity, Stiles can feel Scott's chest brush against his shoulders with every breath he takes and the way Scott is crowding him without being overbearing is something Stiles could definitely get used to.  
"His First Officer." Scott answers, grinning down at Stiles.  
"I'll bet you are." The man says with a bit of a leer. Scott doesn't waver but he does go a little pink in his cheeks and Stiles is sure he does as well but it sends butterflies through his stomach that Scott doesn't become at all defensive or off-put at the implication, just a little flustered seeming.

The bartender finally sets their drinks on a couple trays and Stiles stands. The other man isn't watching them so intently anymore but he hasn't looked away either, and that's perfect, Stiles thinks, he wants this to be obviously deliberate and having a witness helps. Scott steps forward to take one of the trays but Stiles steps just enough into his way to stop him and also eliminate enough of the space between them that he can feel the heat radiating off of Scott's body, he leans in close enough that his lips brush the shell of Scott's ear when he speaks, just innocent enough and still not innocent at all, and thanks him. He hopes his tone of voice is both sincere and a little sexy, which means it probably comes out sarcastic and distressed but hey, at least Scott seems to get it. When he pulls away to get the drinks he brushes a thumb over Scott's hip and Scott's hand flies out to catch it and stop him from moving away, eyes wide and wanting and a little confused.  
"Stiles, what-" but Stiles covers his mouth with a hand.  
"Don't worry about it, Scott. Not tonight, we'll talk tomorrow, I promise." He smiles. After a moment Scott nods, but Stiles isn't quite ready to take his hand away, he slides it over to rest just between Scott's jaw and collar for a moment, staring. The physical pull between them feels so strong it's almost palpable, neither of them wants to relinquish the moment. Eventually, though, someone jostles Scott from behind and the spell is broken, they both retrieve their trays and return to the table. They stay close for the rest of the night, and if their fingers intertwine underneath the table, well, that's no ones business but their own.

**V**

They're at a recruiting event for Starfleet (not that starfleet even really needs recruiting events, but it's a good opportunity to scope out potential talent for the future, or, they hate to admit, keep an eye out for potential future enemies). Either way, more often than not there isn't much to speak of, even if they meet someone they find could be a good resource in the future of starfleet it's not all that eventful. They interview them a little more intensively than normal, try to lay things on a little thick with the inspiring speeches, and remember to record the name. End of story. However, Stiles has been seriously looking forward to this particular recruitment event because he found out a week ago that the information for the attendees did not actually list the specific ranks and positions of the attending officers, merely their names and fields of study at the academy. He hasn't warned anyone that he's obviously planning on telling everyone a Captain, mainly because he doubts he even has to. 

That's not the only reason he's excited, though. They're overnighting at a hotel, and Stiles is pretty sure he's finally going to get the chance to have the talk he and Scott mentioned at the bar a week ago. He meant what he said, about wanting to talk the next day, but of course life has gotten in the way since then, as it has a general tendency to do. They'd been sent off on an emergency rescue the next day and they'd ended up having to stay longer than usual when Derek had gotten mangled up pretty badly on what was supposed to be a routine extraction. It was very obviously the time to put personal matters aside, they both knew that without having to talk about it. They've only just returned to earth and gotten everything cleared up in the last twenty-four hours and Considering how tired Stiles has been feelings since they landed he reckons the extra night has done them both a favour.

Tonight, though, tonight will be perfect. They're spending the day at the recruitment centre, a little fun, a lot boring, and generally kind of relaxing. After that a few of the crew are planning on hanging out in the room Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are sharing for a good, old-fashioned movie night. Once that's over they'll head back to their shared hotel room, because they always share, and Stiles figures Scott knows tonight's the night that they're finally going to get this thing that's been building between them out in the air just as well as he does. To say he isn't nervous would be a lie of course, he's excited and full of wanting but he's also more than a little terrified. Despite the fact that he knows whatever happens, neither of them would ever let it happen, Stiles still has this irrational fear that their entire friendship is just going to crash and burn around them. He knows, genuinely, that he couldn't survive it. There have been a lot of moments, more than he cares to admit to most of the time, where Scott has been his lifeline. He needs him there to tether him to reality when he can't do it for himself. 

So, Stiles has plans, clearly. But his first order of business is obviously to relax.

They've got various round tables set up for Command, Science, Medical, Engineering, Tactical, Security, Helm, etc. He and Scott are currently seated at the command table awaiting the first batch of potential cadets. Scott is always ridiculously modest at these things, it would almost make Stiles feel a little bad about stealing his thunder here if it weren't for the fact that Scott's also incredibly awkward under any kind of admiration or appreciative scrutiny at all. Besides, he's pretty sure Scott knows exactly what's going to go down considering this is the first time in all of their years that their ranks have been omitted from the program, how could Stiles not take advantage, really, he's only human. And furthermore, he's Stiles. Anyone who's spent more than five minutes with him knows what that means. When a couple of kids walk up to the table, can't be older than fourteen, Stiles thinks, they look eager and excited and a little nervous as well. 

They spend a moment nudging each other with their elbows and arguing via eyebrows before they finally walk up to the table and the shorter, brown haired girl steps up first.  
"We hear-I mean, is it true that one of you is the youngest Starfleet Captain ever?" She asks, boldly, but in a rush. Scott grins broadly and looks over at Stiles, raising his eyebrows expectantly, and oh, yeah, he totally knows already what Stiles has been planning. Stiles grins back at him.  
"Why, yes. That'd be me." The two young girls proceed to relentlessly batter them with questions about their crew, ship, and finally the big, inevitable question of how they came to be in command of a ship at such a young age. This question was always the one story neither of them was ever keen to tell. Honestly, the only thing that lets Stiles get through it with dry eyes most of the time is knowing that Scott still can't so he has to. He gets the feeling, though, that today isn't the day to share that particular story. Not when it will mean repeating it to every group of kids who come by, not when they can't tell it properly.  
"Bravery." Answers Stiles, finally. "We were brave, and probably just stupid enough, and it was noticed by the right person, at the right time. That's all." And in a manner of speaking, it really is. Scott looks over at him and nods, Stiles understands, he's thankful. Stiles is glad he made the right call in not telling the story. He can see the two girls in front of him are dying to know more, but his tone is final and they manage to bite their tongues. After a few more curious questions about missions they've been on and life on-board one of the organizers comes to usher them on to the next table and bring on the next wave of potential recruits.

The rest of the day is filled with much of the same, Stiles and Scott riffing off each other and embellishing stories and alternately trying to explain the feeling of life on-board a starship, the reward and risk and the feeling of being a part of something. In the end, they've had a better time than either of them expected to and everyone is pretty tired-out. The group decides that everyone is going to meet up at eight and get some much needed alone time until then. It's currently six-thirty and when he thinks about it for a minute Stiles realizes he doesn't actually feel like waiting. He feels good now, he feels right, and he's hoping Scott does too. He turns to his best-friend.  
"Wanna go somewhere?"  
"Sure." Scott grins. "Where were you thinking?"  
"We're not too far from the academy, remember that shitty cafe bar we used to always go to when we had to force ourselves to work, everywhere else was either too uncomfortable to concentrate or too comfortable to stay awake?"  
"Oh god, yeah. I wish I didn't. Painful times." Stiles laughs, before long they're on their way.

::: 

When they get there Stiles isn't surprised to find the place pretty much unchanged, they both grab plain, black coffees and head over to the same corner booth they used to pile themselves into as cadets. Stiles feels a little awkward, a little nervous, but neither so much as he'd expected to.  
"So." He begins, a little lamely.  
"So." Scott answers, just a little teasing. They both take a moment to grin at each other before Stiles presses on.  
"We should probably talk about this." Stiles says, gesturing at the air in between them to indicate 'this'. Scott nods and his demeanor sobers slightly, there's a moment where they both search for the right thing to say, Scott is the one to break the silence.  
"I don't want to fuck this up, Stiles. And I don't just mean, y'know, this" He imitates Stiles' earlier gesture with a small smile. "I mean us. Everything. You've-you've been my bestfriend, my brother, as long as I can remember, and I don't want to throw that away if we don't work out." Stiles nods.  
"Me either."  
"But?" Scott asks, because really, he can hear in Stiles' voice that there is one and he's never been more pleased to hear it because he really, really wants this.  
"But I don't want to give this up, and I don't think you do either." Scott shakes his head.  
"No."  
"I mean, we both-we both know this is...special, right?" Stiles blushes a little, but presses on. "This isn't just a crush or a fling, this really means something." Stiles is fidgeting with the napkin in front of him, tearing off tiny pieces of it and Scott isn't positive he even realises he's doing it.  
"Yes." He answers, simply, but vehemently and without a moment of hesitation. Scott thought he'd already known, but the actual vocalised assurance of things seems to help him collect himself a little.  
"So," Stiles continues "We just take our time, figure out how this works for us, right?" Scott grins and Stiles grins back, Scott nods and Stiles speaks again.  
"And Scott, whatever happens, even if this shit blows up in our faces, we're always gonna' have each other, no matter what, okay? I'm never going to let that go no matter how fucking awkward things get." Scott laughs.  
"You are definitely the master of awkward situations, I believe it." Stiles nods and they both chuckle and sip their coffees. A moment later, Scott speaks.  
"Really, though, Stiles. Me too, no matter what." Stiles smiles in a way that leaves Scott feeling like he's just gotten the wind knocked out of him, and for the first time he doesn't even have to feel embarrassed about it. Stiles stretches a hand out over the table towards Scott, palm up, and raises his mug slightly with the other.  
"To going slow?" After a beat Scott reaches out and links their fingers together, feeling a thrilling sense of warmth and rightness at the contact, and mirrors his raised mug.  
"To going slow." He says with a smile.

They leave the cafe, hands still linked, and it feels a little strange but not as much as either of them had expected or worried that it might. They get to Erica's room and everyone else is already there. A few people eye their joined hands and Stiles is about ninety percent sure he hears Isaac whine about losing a bet to Boyd, but otherwise no one really reacts much and Stiles is perfectly happy with things that way. It's tough, fitting all of them into the room comfortably, but they manage. Back when they'd first started movie nights there had only been six of them, Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and Danny. But after a semester they'd started to include Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and even Derek when one of the three of them managed to drag him along. By the end of their time at school they'd expanded to the same sixteen that they are now and fitting them all into one person's dorm room or apartment livingroom had been near-impossible. This feels a lot like that in a way that makes Stiles feel a little bit soppy and nostalgic. 

By the time they finish everyone is yawning and a few people are already starting to nod-off. Everyone slowly files out the door and heads towards their own rooms, exchanging farewells and 'see you tomorrow's. When Scott and Stiles get to their room they go straight to bed, there isn't a question about whether or not they'll share, they do. They fall asleep with arms and legs tangled around each other and Stiles is so sure he feels the ghost of Scott's lips over his before he falls asleep that he almost wants to stay suspended in the moment forever, but sleep claims him too soon. 

They're awoken four-and-a-half hours later by the alarms on both of their com devices. There's been a high-ranking starfleet official taken hostage in enemy space and although they aren't an official rescue division ship they have enough of a track record with similar situations that their presence has been requested immediately, regardless. When Scott turns to Stiles, pale and still with wide eyes, Stiles only has to wonder why for a moment before he find out for himself from the voice on the other end of his own communicator.  
"Officer Stilinski, the official held hostage is Admiral Stilinski. I expect you to remain professional and remain on-board the ship. Leave any and all command decisions to Captain McCall unless absolutely necessary. If you are too emotionally compromised to perform your duties as First Officer to the best of your ability please hand-off duties to the officer on-board your ship who is next in command and retire to your quarters. That's an order." The voice on the other end signs off and after a moment Stiles pulls in a shaky breath, and summons every ounce of his will-power to move forwards. He can do this, he can keep it together, for his dad.

**+**

All eyes are on them but Scott couldn't care less. He's as close to seething with anger as he's ever been. He's just announced his plan to beam into enemy territory, on-board their ship, alone, and he knows it's extreme but if they send more than one person out they risk detection too easily, and his heightened senses make him the candidate with the highest likelihood of success. He can understand if people are a little apprehensive about the idea, after all it's certainly not the safest thing they've ever done, but it's the only choice they've got and he thought everyone would understand that. The alternative is too risky to the rest of the crew and their lives mean more than his alone, he told everyone as much. That's when the fighting had started. 

He's expecting Allison to be the first to tear into him, she looks ready, Lydia too. Maybe even Isaac, but he just sits stock-still in his chair, pale and sad looking. But instead it's Stiles who is the first.  
"No." there's a fire behind his eyes that Scott isn't sure he's ever seen before, not with such intensity.  
"Stiles," he begins tentatively, trying to sound reasonable "It's the only way."  
"Bullshit it is. You're not risking your life for this mission, not alone, there are other ways." His tone is full of finality and it riles Scott. Of all the people in this room Stiles should be the one backing him up, it's his father's life that's at stake here, afterall.  
"Oh yeah? Like what? We send in a team and we're detected before we even cross the threshold and then it's only a matter of time before they detect the ship and as we can't take off we're all done for. Their weaponry is significantly more advanced than ours." Stiles looks about to yell back but Scott isn't done.  
"And besides, it's my ship, Stiles. I am the Captain, do I have to remind you of that?" He sees Stiles flinch and something ugly coils in his gut, he feels bad, but he has to make Stiles understand that this is happening, no matter what he says. He won't put the lives of his crew in even more danger than they already are and this is the safest option, maybe not for him, but for the rest of them. "And as Captain, it's my decision, in the end." His voice leaves no room for argument. There's a moment where the tension is so thick Scott feels like he can taste it, they communicate only through a look, and finally, Stiles speaks.  
"Fine." Scott is surprised, he'd been expecting more fight from Stiles, still.  
"Fine?" He parrots, almost disbelieving.  
"Fine." Scott begins to relax but only for a moment before Stiles goes on. "But don't think for even a second that I'm going to support this. Not a fucking second." And then he turns on his heel and returns to his position on the bridge, not acknowledging Scott again, not even for a moment.

He can't believe it. Stiles has always been with him. Always had his back, always. He makes it five minutes before storming off the bridge, towards his quarters, with the flimsy excuse of a few moments of rest before the mission, leaving Stiles in command of the bridge.

:::

He's had some time to collect himself and Scott is still angry, angrier than he's been in a long time. Stiles is the last person he ever thought would go against him like that, wouldn't have his back in a fight, but it looks like he's going to have to do this alone. Truth be told, it stings a little more than it might've a couple months ago. Which is impressive because Stiles has always been there, beside him. More family than a friend, and relentlessly there for him his entire life. In all honesty, more than anger he feels unsettled and nervous of having to do this without the safety net of his best friend there to catch him when he falls for the first time he can remember. He throws himself back onto the bed and promises himself he will not be brought to tears by this. No matter how angry the situation makes him, he and Stiles have shared a lifetime of friendship, it won't be undone by one bad argument. But once again, it stings a little more with the knowledge that he'd been so, so sure they'd spent the last few months working towards something more. 

He's just managing a new wave of mourning for something that hasn't even had the chance to begin, and now probably never will, when the sound of his doors sliding open catches his attention. He'd restricted his doors to full security immediately after entering the room, meaning his First Officer is the only one allowed through. Stiles must know better than to come after him right away, which means something must've gone wrong with the hostage situation since he left for him to be here. Still, though, when he sits up he's met with the sight of Stiles hovering awkwardly, but still clearly frustrated, by the doors which have closed and locked behind him. He's avoiding Scott's eyes, but he doesn't seem urgently worried about anything. Alarm subsiding but increasingly nervous, Scott wants to ask what's gone wrong but Stiles beats him to it.

"I'm sorry." Scott's sure that it's being spoken though a clenched jaw, but despite the anger Stiles' tone is still sincere. Scott nods.  
"Me too." He bites out, and he is. There's a beat of silence in which they both seem to be waiting for the other to have something to say. Scott is the one to finally break it. "I'm still doing it."  
"I know." When Stiles doesn't say anything else, and still won't look at him, Scott grows annoyed. He wanted, needed, to hear more than that.  
"Is that all you came to say?" He knows the irritation rings loud and clear though his voice and it gets the desired result quick enough, anger and frustration lighting up Stiles' expression, his eyes are suddenly boring straight into Scott's. He takes a step towards Scott, gesturing widely with his arms.  
"What else do you want to hear? I'm sorry you're an idiot, I'm sorry for giving a shit that you want to throw away your life for this? Sorry for caring? Great, there you go, I'm fucking sorry, okay?"  
"No!" Scott shouts back, leaping to his feet. He knows that he's getting in Stiles' face now, it probably isn't helping the situation but he's too angry to force himself to calm down and step back. "No, I want to hear that you're sorry for abandoning me! How often do you say you've got my back? Tell me we've got each other, no matter what?" He sees Stiles flinch and knows that was a low blow, considering their earlier conversation, but it's done now. 

"I do!" Stiles' voice comes out a little weaker, more sad, this time. More frustration than anger. "You know I still do!"  
"That's not what you said!" Stiles throws his hands up in the air this time, as if Scott is the idiot here.  
"Jesus, Scott, that's not what I meant! Obviously I'm always here for you. I don't support this idea because I think it's a fucking awful one that's going to end up getting you killed, but I'm still going to do whatever I can to help you, you idiot!" Stiles is breathless by the time he finishes. Their gazes are still locked on each other, and at this point the intensity is too much for either of them to look away.  
"Then why'd you say it?" Scott's voice comes out much more vulnerable than he'd like, but he holds Stiles' gaze anyway. Stiles takes a deep breath and for a moment he looks like he might cry, but in the end his shoulders drop and his voice comes out cracked.  
"Because, I need you to live. I need you to know that I give a shit about what happens to you." And just like that the fight leaves Scott, replaced mostly by weariness. He feels guilty too, he doesn't regret anything he said in the moment, but he wants to make Stiles feel better, wishes he could stop him from worrying, but he has to do this and he knows that Stiles will worry as long as he does, there's nothing for it.  
"Stiles." He says, and he knows no one else would understand him, but because it's Stiles he sees everything Scott wants to say in that one word. Stiles finally drops his gaze, and let's a small, defeated laugh escape him, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.  
"I know."

Scott can see that he's about to start pacing, can see his shaking, and knows his already anxious state is about to devolve into a panic attack. It's been years since he's had one, but Scott can still see them coming. He steps forward, slowly.  
"Stiles?" he asks, gently. Stiles only shakes his head without responding. "Stiles." he says a little firmer, placing a hand on his shoulder, solid, but not restricting. He knows Stiles wouldn't let anyone else, save his father, touch him when he's like this, but after years they've learned the limits of what hurts and helps between the two of them. He knows what Stiles needs right now is for someone to ground him. He's losing his grip and Scott is there to keep it for him, when he needs the help. Stiles leans heavily into his shoulder, he can feel the shakes running through his body and his breath is still coming irregularly in shallow, erratic pants like he's excessively aware of every breath he takes. One hand covering his mouth and the other clawing slowly and deeply at the bottom of his throat, skin going red beneath his blunt finger-nails, he probably hasn't even realised he's doing it. Scott pulls closer, shifting the grip on his shoulder so he's holding the base of his neck instead, other hand gently and carefully taking hold of the one Stiles is using to claw at his throat and resting it firmly over his own chest. When he speaks his voice is gentle, but commanding. 

"Stiles, look at me." Stiles does. He can feel Stiles' fingers digging into his chest and knows he's anxious over the loss of his hand at his throat, feeling his pulse point. "Concentrate on my breathing, okay?"  
"I can't." Stiles' voice is pleading and scared, but he doesn't move his hand away.  
"You can, I promise. You've done this before, remember? We can get through this, together, we always do. All you've got to do is concentrate, okay?" Stiles nods. "Okay, breath with me." Stiles does, and slowly they find a rhythm. When he knows Stiles isn't going to take his hand away if he moves his, he places his own over Stiles' heart. They stay like that for a moment, breathing in through their noses, out slowly through their mouths. There are a few times he has to calm Stiles down when his anxiety starts to build again, but he can feel him slowly gaining control over himself again. He knows he can't let go yet, and really he doesn't want to, hates to leave Stiles when he's like this, but they need to keep moving forward. 

"Okay, now try to feel my heartbeat." He can feel that Stiles' own is still rising and sinking with bursts of anxiety. Stiles nods, and closes his eyes. He moves his hands, one coming to rest on the wrist of the hand Scott still has gripping his nape, and one coming to rest over the pulse point of Scott's neck and collar. Stiles' fingers are long enough that the two that curl over his collar catch and slip under his command shirt, and he has to remind himself there's no intent behind it, right now Stiles only needs the closeness to calm down.  
"Concentrate on the rhythm of my heartbeat, try to sync yours up." Stiles nods again, not opening his eyes.  
They stay like that for what feels like hours, but can't be more than a few minutes in reality. 

He can feel the shaking in Stiles' hands has mostly stopped, but he's still holding him tightly. When Stiles' eyes open their intensity is startling, Scott barely even manages to begin asking if he's okay before Stiles surges forward and steals away the rest of his sentence with a kiss. The kiss is intense, and desperate, and messy with longing and it takes barely a second for Scott to catch up and throw himself into it just as fully as Stiles. He pushes closer until there isn't a breath between them and the feeling of rightness and belonging inside him threatens to overwhelm. Stiles' hand that was on his neck is now fisted in his hair. When he finally pulls away, leaving Scott very literally breathless, he releases his wrist and buries his face in Scott's neck, his hand coming to cling at Scott's back. Scott, in turn, wraps both arms tight around Stiles and holds him through the shuddering, shallow breaths and the silent, wet tears he can feel on his nape.

When Stiles is finally, truly calming down he starts to pull away, avoiding Scott's eyes. Scott can already see he's embarrassed and nervous and worried about everything that's just happened. He's always felt humiliated after one of his attacks, and Scott can only imagine how much he's freaking out now with the kiss on top of everything, but the last thing he needs to do is apologise, for any of it.  
"Fuck," he says, wiping away at his tears "I'm sorry, I-"  
"Hey," Scott interrupts, pulling him closer again by the hip and bringing up a hand to brush away a stray tear from his cheek. "It's okay, Stiles, seriously." He leans forward to place a small peck on the corner of Stiles' mouth, just enough to affirm what he's saying, without any pressure or expectations.  
"It's okay." He repeats one, last time and Stiles' expression finally relaxes. 

Eventually, Stiles speaks again. His voice sounds terrified and tired.  
"I can't-I can't lose both of you. I just can't fucking do it." Scott's breath catches and he holds Stiles to him a little tighter.  
"You aren't going to lose either one of us, Stiles. I swear, I'm going to bring your father back, and I'm going to be fine."  
"Scott," Stiles hesitates "just-just don't make promises we both know you can't keep." And when Stiles says that Scott's heart breaks, because he knows it's true. Even if he could convince Stiles otherwise, it wouldn't do any good in the end, if things went wrong. He brings his hands up to Stiles' jaw, bringing their foreheads together. He tries so hard to convey everything he feels, how much he wishes he could truly promise Stiles that everything will be better, into the space between them. Stiles' hands leave his back and hair to grip his wrists, but they aren't trying to move him away at all, simply holding him there.

"I love you." He says, his voice is small and broken and it's simultaneously the best and worst thing Scott's ever heard, because it makes him happier than anything in the world, but he knows Stiles is saying it now because they both know they might never get the chance to otherwise.  
"I love you." Scott says back, and they both choke out small, sad laughs.

:::

"Stiles, you're Captain while I'm off-board." He wants to crack a joke about it, feels like he should, but he really can't put his heart into it, not when he knows how scared Stiles is for him right now, not that you'd know it to look at him. Stiles nods, and Scott steps onto the platform, the last thing he sees is Stiles' eyes locked on his. He promises himself it won't be the last time.

:::

Stiles knows his hands are shaking but he can't take the time to step back and worry about it because he knows if he does the reality of the whole situation will threaten to overwhelm him and that's not a risk he can afford right now, not when the lives of his father and Scott hang in the balance.

:::

Everyone on the bridge is waiting with bated breath to hear Scott's voice come through the communication line. They're so close, so, so close. All Scott has to do is reach the point of the ship that's unshielded enough to get a solid lock on his position and then they can beam up both Scott and Stiles' father and get the hell out of dodge. All Stiles wants, more than anything, is to hug Scott and hear his father's voice and get as far away from here as quickly as possible. Finally, Scott's voice comes over the line.  
"We're almost there prep-" and then it stops. They can hear the clear sounds of a scuffle, shots being fired, and shouting. Stiles is almost shocked he can hear it over the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. The line goes dead and for a full moment, no one speaks. Then, a signal beeps in, Commander Stilinski's communicator requesting transmission.  
"Sir?" Stiles chokes out, he barely manages not to say dad, but he has to hold it together, put the situation before his personal status.  
"Son." Commander Stilinski responds, and no one says a word. "Captain McCall is down, he took a phaser to the leg and a pretty serious blow to the head. I can still walk, but there's no way I'm going to be able to get us both to the beam point." Stiles doesn't think, he acts.  
"Help is on it's way." he whirls around to Lydia, already on his way out the door. "I'm beaming down, the ship is under your command." The doors close and he can hear her shouting about emotional instability and the whole situation being far too large a risk but he doesn't care. This could be it, he could lose them, and if they go he has no intention of sticking around without them. Not when he knows that he could've tried harder, could've been there.

He sprints down the hall to the transporter room, and before he knows it the golden lights are swirling around him, he's got his phaser already in hand and the room around him fades away.

:::

Stiles can hear resigned anger but also pride in his father's voice when Stiles' voice comes through the com asking for his location. He gets there quickly enough and finds his father has dragged them both into a small alcove meant for storage. He helps his father up to his feet and then drags Scott up as well, Stiles' father gets under one of Scott's arms on his good side, and Stiles on the other, and together they hobble as quickly as possible back to the beam point. Stiles sees the door to the room busting open just as the everything around them fades away in a haze of gold light and lets relief wash over him.

:::

When they're back on-board the enterprise Stiles hardly gets a chance to appreciate it before the already waiting medical team swoops in to whisk away his father and Scott. Stiles knows it's time to get back to the bridge. They're here. They're safe, he can finish this. He stands up and moves quickly out of the room, heading back to the bridge to get them the hell out of here and wait for word that he can visit.

:::

They're all standing around Scott's bed in the sickbay and Stiles doesn't realise there are tears streaming down his face, but when Lydia hands him a tissue and gestures to his cheeks he isn't surprised, either. She, Allison, and Isaac say their goodbyes to Scott, telling him to get better and wake up soon so they can all kick his ass into next week for doing something so stupid, leaving the two of them alone. Stiles really isn't sure how he feels, at this point. He can't separate one emotion from the other anymore, he feels like a mess, it's been one of the most emotionally exhausting days of his life. He'd worked so, so hard to hold it together and he could swear that the moment Scott's com went dead his heart had stopped, but he'd pushed through, he'd gotten Scott and his father back home because to him there had been no alternative. A world without them wasn't one he would allow to come about as long as there was anything he could think to do about it, and the moment they'd been safe in the sickbay and they'd left enemy air-space Stiles had left the ship in Lydia's command again and walked straight off the bridge towards his quarters. He'd intended to go straight to the sickbay, but once he knew that they were safe, he seriously needed a moment to collect himself.

:::

The doors have barely slid shut behind him when the emotions that have been threatening to overwhelm him since the wee hours of morning, when their coms first went off, come crashing down, suffocating him with anxiety, panic, and relief. So, much fear, so much worry, so much desperation. All just barely softened by the fact that he has them back now. They're worse for the wear, certainly, but they'll recover. Still, though, all he keeps hearing in his head is the static of Scott's communication line going down and his heartbeat pounding in his ears as one thought echoes around and around in his head, inescapable.

'I've lost them.'

He tries to cling to the phantom feeling of Scott's hand over his heart from the morning, it's hard to believe that was only this morning when it feels a million light-years away, and Scott's own heart beating beneath his palm. It doesn't fix everything about how he's feeling, but it helps steady his nerves. He feels collected enough to go to medical, now. First, he stops in to see his father. He knows he probably shouldn't but after a moment of standing in the doorway he launches himself towards his father, hugging him and threatening to remove and and all bacon from his future if he ever scares Stiles like that again. Then he apologises a little sheepishly and a little sadly for the state of their rescue operation. The only thing left is to explain the situation between him and Scott. When he finishes he feels more worn out than before, but also like a little weight has been taken off his chest. The only other person he's really talked to about this has been Allison, if you don't count Isaac's prodding and teasing which he definitely doesn't, and that hadn't really been the same, not to mention a lot had happened since then.  
"Huh." Is what his father says once Stiles has finished pouring his heart and soul out to him.  
"Um," Stiles hesitates. "Is that a good huh, or a bad huh? Or a you're both such idiots it's no wonder huh? I need a little more than a monosyllabic response here, dad." Stiles' father laughs.  
"Probably mostly the latter. I'm not surprised, not really."  
"Thanks dad, and, no?"  
"No. I mean, I really did figure you two were just close, you always were, but I mean," He trails off for a moment, searching for the right way to phrase his answering before picking back up again. "I always wondered if things would end up like this, or if they ever had been already. Either way, you two certainly deserve each other." Stiles laughs.  
"You mean because we're both such idiots." He's surprised to see his father's expression doesn't relax, rather it sobers, but doesn't lose any of it's warmth.  
"Son, you and Scott are two of the bravest people I've ever had the pleasure of having in my life, and I really could not be prouder of you. I don't tell you that enough, Stiles, but I am, proud. So proud." Stiles is doing his best to hold back tears.  
"Dad." he chokes out.  
"Your mother would be proud too, you know." There's a waver in his voice that Stiles only ever hears when they talk about his mother. "I wish she could see you now." And Stiles can't hold back anymore, there are tears coming down his face, and his father's eyes are shining as well.  
"I know." He says, moving to hug his father again. They stay there for a moment longer before Stiles' father shoos him out of the room telling him to go visit Scott so he can get some rest. 

Now, here he is. Standing alone at the foot of Scott's bed, and he still can't tell whether he wants to laugh or cry or shout or sleep. In the end he settles for crawling up onto the bed, carefully and settling himself next to Scott, curling as close as he can without disturbing any of Scott's injuries.  
"Such an idiot." He whispers, pressing a small, chaste kiss to the corner of Scott's mouth. When Scott croaks out "You love me anyway." a moment later, face cracking into a grin, he nearly gives Stiles a heart attack. After a second he just ends up laughing and kissing Scott for real. They're both full of relief and elation and it's too much to put into words so they pour it all into the kiss.

**X**

Scott walks onto the bridge of the ship, which aside from a couple maintenance crew down in engineering is completely abandoned, to find Stiles slung across the Captain's chair, just as he'd expected. He discreetly punches in the lock-sequence for the doors while Stiles is still facing the other direction before walking over to meet him.  
"Hey." He greets with a grin.  
"Hey." Stiles responds. Scott is pretty sure he's not imagining the undercurrent of nervous excitement that colours Stiles' voice, but then again he knows he might just be imagining what he wants to hear. He's hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time he's been alone with Stiles since his attack, or rather the first time they've been alone together when they've both been completely lucid and physically capable. Now that the tension and the shock of their whole mission has finally started to fade, along with the physical reminders, he's finding his mind stuck on the path he hopes they're finally going to get the chance to follow. They've been waiting a long damn time for each other, now, and he's pretty sure they both deserve this.  
"It's good to see you up and about again, lazy ass." Scott laughs. It's not even funny, but he's feeling too dizzy with the swelling feeling of anticipation in his gut not to.  
"You've already seen me up and about." He points out, to that Stiles just rolls his eyes so hard Scott is pretty sure his whole body ends up moving with the force of it.  
"You know what I mean, jackass. It's good to see you on the ship, y'know," Scott doesn't miss the embarrassed blush staining his cheeks or the way his fingers begin picking at the hem of his blue tunic. "It just feels right." He finishes, and for a moment he looks like he wants to backpedal, but when a grin, very possibly the most ridiculous one to-date, covers Scott's face all Stiles can do is smile back up at him.  
"So," Scott teases "Does that mean you're ready to let me reclaim my throne?" He asks, gesturing to the chair Stiles is currently occupying. Stiles pretends to look like he's pondering the question before sitting up properly and settling once more into the chair, significantly more theatrically than necessary, running his hands over the armrests and wiggling backwards into the seat-cushion while he looks up at Scott, letting out a deep, put-upon sigh.  
"I dunno man, we both know I've always been destined for this chair. She calls to me, Scott. I hear her voice at night." He puts on a thoroughly despairing expression, and looks ready to go on, so Scott decides to take things into his own hands before Stiles starts rambling.  
"Well," He interrupts. "We could always share?" He suggests, and he watches Stiles' expression change to surprised and then into something with a wicked edge that makes his heart beat a little harder.  
"Sure, I've always wondered if there was room for two."

:::

There is, as it turns out, room for two. But only just barely. Stiles' left leg is numb under Scott's weight and his right wrist is caught in a painful and unmovable position somewhere behind him, pinned by one of Scott's hands, but he's really, really never been happier. Scott has him splayed out and pressed into the command chair and secretly he's never thought actually thought it was all that comfortable but there's nowhere else he'd rather be now, he's certainly not going to complain about it.  
"Fuck." He hears Scott growl into the crook of his neck.  
"So soon? I think I need dinner first, at least. Maybe a movie."  
"Shut up" he groans "You're not funny." Scott nips at his neck in what Stiles suspects he means to be a punishment, but really it just makes Stiles groan louder. Apparently Scott decides that's more rewarding than arguing because he continues nipping down Stiles neck eliciting more moans from him until he's got his hands up Stiles' shirt and he's pushing it up and over his head and really that's just unfair. Stiles pushes him back for a moment and Scott whines, looking up at him with the same ridiculous puppy dog eyes he always uses to steal the last of Stiles' lunch. Stiles tells him to shut it and yanks his shirt over his head before pulling him back again and oh, yes, all of that skin to skin contact is a definite improvement and if the long, low moan he releases is anything to go by Scott definitely agrees with him.

Stiles' hands are just beginning to tug at Scott's trousers when Scott thinks to pull back for a moment, red faced and panting, it takes all his self control not to give into Stiles' whine and tug at his hips to get him back.  
"Aren't we supposed to be going slow?" He pants out. Stiles' eyes are intense, even more so than before, and when he answers Scott can feel that there's a lot more riding on this question than meets the eye.  
"I don't want to go slow, Scott. I want you. Do you know what you want?" Scott stares into his eyes for a moment, and the intensity of Stiles' feelings blazing behind them leaves him breathless.  
"Of course I do, you, Stiles." He's leaning forward again, catching Stiles' lips in a bruising kiss before pulling back. "Always you." Stiles lets out something between a groan and a growl and pulls him back against him so he can resume attacking his trousers with a renewed ferocity. Scott knows he's never been surer of what he wants in his life. Stiles finally, finally gets his trousers open and wastes no time at all shoving a hand inside them and palming him through his underwear. Scott groans and leans heavily into Stiles, pressing open, messy kisses up the side of his neck. Stiles groans.  
"Dude, you don't even know what you're doing to me right now." Scott grins against Stiles' skin.  
"I think I do." He says, rolling down against Stiles' hard cock. Stiles groans and mumbles something incoherent. They stay like that for a moment, rocking and grinding into each other before Stiles takes his hand away and shoves Scott up to his feet only to turn them around and shove him back into the chair. He drops to his knees in front of him and when Scott registers what's happening he's pretty sure he's not going to last much longer if his reaction to the visual of Stiles on his knees alone is anything to go by. Stiles reaches up and hooks his fingers over both Scott's trousers and underwear and pulls them down carefully over his cock and halfway down his thighs. He reaches up to wrap long, delicate fingers around Scott and Scott bucks up into his hand, keening. Stiles strokes him a few times, wearing a wicked grin while he stares up at Scott and the sight is very nearly too much to take. He turns his eyes to Scott's cock as he swipes his thumb over the head and then leans forwards to lick the precome off, eyes back on Scott's when his tongue drags over the sticky pad of his thumb. 

"Stiles, please." Scott begs.  
"Show a little more respect than that to your Captain, XO." Stiles replies, and for a moment Scott seriously can't believe what he's hearing, but then, really, as if it would be any other way.  
"Please, Captain." Scott tries again.  
"Better." Stiles grins, before leaning over to press a wet, open mouthed kiss to the head of his cock and moaning filthily while he does it. Scott cries out at the sight and bucks up into Stiles' mouth. Stiles lets him, taking his cock further and further into his mouth until he establishes a rhythm and lets Scott fuck his mouth, eyes not leaving Scott's the whole time. He pulls off with a pop and brings up a hand to keep stroking him while he kisses down his shaft before arriving to his balls and sucking them one at a time into his mouth. Soon, he brings a hand up to keep fondling while he returns his mouth to Scott's cock with a moan. Scott knows he hasn't got long left. He's noticed that Stiles has brought a hand down to start palming himself through his trousers and is making small keening noises around his throat. He summons all his self control to lean forward and pull Stiles gently off his cock.  
"Stand up." he orders, and for once, Stiles obeys immediately. He pulls Stiles forwards a little by the hips, runs his hand over the tent in his trousers before yanking them down altogether, along with his underwear. Without hesitation he leans forward and takes Stiles down as far as he can without gagging, staring up at him from under his eyelashes. After a moment of working Stiles with his mouth he ghosts a finger over Stiles' hole, he can hear Stiles' breath hitch and feels his cock jump in his mouth, he pulls off for a moment.  
"Can I..." He lets the sentence die on his tongue, implying the rest.  
"Oh god, Oh my god yes, but I don't have anything..." Stiles trails off, and Scott flushes slight more than he already is.  
"I do." Stiles raises his eyebrows and Scott expects a comment but instead just nods, clearly he doesn't have the capacity for snark right now. Scott reaches down awkwardly to retrieve two small foil packets from his pocket. He tears open the first and drips some of the lube onto the fingers of his right hand and then returns his mouth to Stiles, left hand gripping his hip as the right slowly reaches around to slide over his hole again. 

When he slowly pushes a tentative first finger inside of Stiles the other moans and shudders, that's all the encouragement he needs. He pushes his finger in slowly until it reaches the knuckle, and then pulls out again. It isn't long before Stiles is fucking himself back onto Scott's hand and pleading for more, soon Scott has a second and a third and a fourth finger in and he can hardly wait any longer. Luckily, neither can Stiles.  
"Oh god." Stiles reaches down and tugs at Scott's hair until he pulls of his cock. "I'm about to come and I need you inside of me, like, yesterday, could we please hurry the fuck up?" Scott presses a kiss to the inside of Stiles' hip.  
"Of Course." He grins. He leans back into the chair, undoing the foil and rolling the condom over himself, stroking himself a few times as he goes. Stiles follows, kicking off his underwear and trousers awkwardly before removing his socks and shoes as an afterthought. He's completely naked when he moves to straddle Scott, he can feel the cotton of Scott's pants scratching against the back of his thighs and there's definitely something he loves about it. 

It's a tight fit, and there's a little awkward maneuvering, but finally, Scott is scooted forwards on the seat a little and Stiles has his thighs locked around his waist, He leans forwards for a moment and they share a filthy, wanting kiss before Stiles pulls back. He puts one hand on Scott's shoulder for support, who has both of his own around Stiles' waist, and the other he uses to reach back and guide Scott's cock to his entrance. He lowers himself down slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time, and once Scott's fully sheathed Scott's body is quaking with the desire to move. Slowly, Stiles pulls himself back up and sinks down again, quicker this time. He lets out a long moan when Scott's hips dig into his ass. They slowly establish a rhythm, and Stiles leans forwards, moving one hand from Scott's thigh to his shoulder, now they're only a hairsbreadth apart. Their lips drag over each other and they share panted breaths as they both work themselves closer and closer to the edge. 

Stiles is the first to come. He leans forward, pressing his lips desperately into Scott's and his hips push down onto Scott more erratically and violently while he clutches at Scott's back where he's certain he'll have marks tomorrow. Feeling him clenching and spasming down around his cock is enough to send Scott over the edge right after him and he leaves marks of his own down Stiles' back. Once they're both spent and sticky and covered in Stiles' come neither of them bother to move right away. Eventually though, they have to. Stiles' come is slowly drying over both of them and they're both starting to feel a little chilly. Not to mention, eventually, someone is going to need to access the bridge and having the First Officer and Captain unlock the door and emerged looking thoroughly debauched will do exactly no one a favor. Stiles moves to stand, trying to ignore the awful squelch of Scott slipping out of him and the fact that his left leg is massively cramped, because none of it really matters in the face of his euphoria right now. Stiles leans over and picks up Scott's command shirt and wipes them both down with it.

"Oh my god, Stiles, no." Stiles just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all loved reading this as much as I loved writing it (which is a lot)! Constructive criticism always encouraged :) this is being expanded into a larger verse so stay tuned if you enjoyed it. I'm coucourfeyrac on tumblr and LJ if you want to get in touch or talk about space travel and werewolves.


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